Geet - Meri Phir Bhi Parayi
by imhjandcwasoc
Summary: A Maaneet Fanfic. How would our favorite story play out if our leading lady and lead male switched roles? Please, please, please leave your comments! Feedback is greatly appreciated! Updates will be irregular, please bear with me :)
1. Chapter I

"Aayye Papa Ji, khane ka waqt ho gaya. Dekho toh sahi, main kya kya banayi aap ke liye."

Geet set the tray on the bed next to her father.

"Papa Ji, uthiye na. Dekho kitni der ho gayi hai, ab uth bhi jaaiye na," Geet pouted as she drew open the curtains that flanked the wall opposite her father's bed.

She turned around to face her father, her hands on her hips, her eyebrows furrowed in mock anger. She moved towards her father's side, but refused to look at his face. "Papa Ji, tang mat kariye. Bohot hogaya, ab agar abhi nai uthe, toh main aapse baath nai karungi, aur dekhna, kitni der lagegi mujhe manane mein." Geet could only keep her head turned away for so long, in a matter of seconds she was peering out of the corner of her eyes at her father's sleeping face.

"Papa Ji!"

Mohinder Handa had shut his eyes a fraction of a second too late.

"Papa Ji! Aap bohot bure ho!" Geet whined as she pinched her father's arm.

"Oh, Geet! Dard ho raha hai! Chod na, sone do," Mohinder pleaded with his daughter. He rolled to the other side and tugged the blanket over his head. "Gayi bhens pani mein." he muttered to himself.

Geet's jaw dropped. "Hawww! Fine. Teekh hai. Main bohot thuk chuki hoon, main jaati hoon. Yeh lo aapka khana, jab jee main aaya toh kha lena. Aur haan, main dawai yahan pe chod rahi hoon, woh bhi khal lena." She moved away from her father's side, only to find she couldn't leave.

"Arre oh mere Veeru. Dawai kha lunga, par sirf tere haathon se."

Geet rolled her eyes and turned to face her father. She wiggled her arm out of her father's firm grip and crossed her arms.

"Papa Ji! Main koi Veeru-sheeru nai hoon. Main aapki Geet hoon. Aur rahi baat dawai ki, toh dawai aap nihar pait pe nai kha sakte. Aur jab aap sone mein itne masroof ho toh, aap khana kaise khayenge, aur jab aap khana nai khayenge, toh aap dawai kaise lenge, aur jab aap-"

"Aur jab main dawai nai lunga toh main teekh kaise ho jaaunga. Hai na?" Mohinder smiled. He sat up and cocked his head to one side, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Ek baat batao Geet, tum jab itne saare baatein karti ho toh thak nai jaati? Hey Babaji, rehem kar! Aapko sun ke main bhi thak jaata hoon," he shook his head solemnly.

"Aap se toh sikha maine," Geet retorted. She settled herself on the bed and pulled the tray towards her father. "Ab bohot baatein hui, ab chup chaap naashta khaye, mujhe Daarji ko phone karna hai, main abhi aaye. Aur agar yeh pura naashta aapne nai khatam kiya, toh mujhse bura koi na hoga. Samjhe aap?" Geet wagged her index finger under her father's nose, emphasizing her every phrase with a jab in the air.

"Aye aye Captain Geet! Aapka hukum sar aankho par!" Mohinder responded with a salute.

"Hm, that's more like it Private Handa," said Geet as she lowered her hand.

Mohinder smiled and pinched his daughter's cheek. "Babaji kare, ke har baap ko aap jaisi dhyan rakne wali beti de de."

All of Geet's mock anger melted away as she smiled. She encompassed her father's hand that rested on her cheek, with her own and turned her head to kiss his palm.

"Hey Babaji, yeh maine kya kaha?" Mohinder dropped his hand from Geet's hold. "Agar har baap ko iss nautanki jaisi beti mile na, toh phir uss bechare baap ka kya hoga, pagal toh nai honge?" Mohinder's eye's became wide with fear.

"Haw, Papa Ji!" Geet's jaw dropped again. "Ab main aapko dikhati hoon!" Geet pushed the tray of food to the side and began tickling her father.

"Geet nai-Geet nai karo! Bas baba-nai, nai! Achcha, achcha, sorry! Sorry!" Mohinder gasped between peels of laughter.

Geet smiled hearing her father's laugh. It was one of the most beautiful sounds to her ears. It came from his stomach, and when it reached your ears it resounded in a stunning vibrato that left you in awe. She enveloped herself in his laughter, she let it wash over her, moving from her ears, traveling through her veins and reaching her soul.

Geet gasped for air. It was as if she was drowning. She sat up, throwing the covers off her, almost doubling over as she tried to breathe. Tears rolled down her cheeks as the darkness around her began to close in again.

"Papa Ji," she croaked. Geet flopped to her side, leaning over the side of her bed, she reached for the inhaler on her bedside table.

 _Present_

"Hey Babaji, aapka lakh lakh shukur hai. Woh kya hai na, tussi great ho, sach mein Babaji."

Maan stood before the doors of Handa Industries.

"Ab chal, Maan puttar. Aaj tera din hai. Here goes!" Maan took a deep breath and stepped into the revolving door, making sure to step in with his right foot first. He smirked as he remembered his Dadimaa's blessing this morning.

"Dadimaa bhi na," Maan smiled and shook his head. "Ab yeh sab chod, Maan, kaam pe dhyan do," he mumbled to himself.

Maan made his way through the marbled lobby, oblivious to the necks he broke as he strode towards the elevators.

"Hayye, dekho, Dhak Dhak aaya!" sighed Pinky as she stared longingly after Maan's retreating figure.

"Oye, Pinky, dekho, tum uski type nahi ho. Toh apne dil jalane ki bajai, tum apna kam karo, kyunki tumari uske saath kabhi koi chance nahi hai," said Adi as he slapped a file down in front of Pinky.

"No fair yaar, main toh dream kar sakti hoon na!" Pinky pouted. "Tum to uske aas paas phirte rehte ho, tumhe toh Maan Sir ki aadat lagi hai. Mera aur uska rishta toh sirf yeh choti choti mulakaato se bani hai."

"Rishta? Kya rishta? Tum toh bas usse stalker ki tarah ghoorti rehti ho jab woh subha main aata hai, aur shaam mein jaata hai. Aur kaisi mulakaatein?"

Adi flung his hand out flamboyantly and imitated Pinky's voice, "'Maan Sir, aapka coffee tayyar hai! Maan Sir, Geet Ma'am ne meeting switch kiya! Maan Sir, main aap ke liye lunch laaun? Maan Sir, main aap ko saari din ghoor sakti hoon? Maan Sir, main paagal hoon! Maan Sir, Maan Sir, Maan Sir!'"

"Adi, tum chup raho, tum nahi samjhoge. Kyun ke tum-tum-tum buddhu ho!" Pinky picked up the file Adi had just set down, smacked him with it and stormed off.

Adi rolled his eyes. "Ladkiyan, I tell you, ek dum psycho-Arre, oh Juliet! Tum nahi hogi toh yeh saala phone kaun uthaega?" he called out to Pinky as the reception phone began ringing.

"Tumhare padosan!" Pinky responded as she stalked off, leaving a panicked Adi at the Reception desk.

Maan walked through the pristine halls of Handa Industries oblivious to the staring and gaping he left in his wake. His tall figure demanded attention, yet there was no arrogance in his stride. His grecian profile made the ladies of the office forget to blink and his one-sided smile caused many a swoon. He remained innocent to the naughty designs he inspired in the heads of the young ladies he worked with. His interest was in his work, his interest was always in his work, and today his work paid off.

Maan stood before the doors of the conference room on the 36th floor. He closed his eyes. It seemed like only yesterday he came from Hoshiyarpur, a broken man, in search of a way to escape his past. Babaji had blessed him, had sent him miracle after miracle, and Maan never forgot it.

"Thank you Babaji," Maan whispered. "Ab mera ek aur kaam karna, Babaji. Main ab Handa Industries ke CEO se milne jaa raha hoon, suna hai ke bohot khatarnak cheez hai, bas koi gadbad na ho jaye, please?" Maan looked up to the sky as he pleaded with his Babaji. He took a deep breath and opened the door before him.


	2. Chapter II

Applause greeted Maan as he entered the boardroom.

A firm grip held Maan's shoulder. "And here is the man of the hour, our very own, Maan!" boomed a voice by Maan's ear.

"Arjun Sir, thank you so much," said Maan when he finally found his voice. He reached out and shook Arjun's hand, reassured by his broad smile.

"Well done, young man. You've done us all proud," said Arjun as he nearly slapped Maan over with his trademark less encouraging, more destabilizing pats. Arjun stood a solid, stately six feet with graying hair and crows feet that framed his kind gray eyes. His white goatee juxtaposed his stocky build, making him seem rather unassuming at first glance. Although taller than Arjun, Maan always looked up to Arjun Sir, as it was through Arjun that Maan had received his position in Handa Industries.

"Haan, haan! It's not everyday such a young fellow gets appointed senior partner. Magar hum kis ke baare mein baat kar rahe hai? Yeh toh koi aam insaan nahi hai, yeh humare Maan hai. Humare apne Maan Singh Khurana," chimed in a voice from the sea of black suits now surrounding Maan.

"Haan, haan, aakhir pota kis ka hai?" came a baritone response.

Maan looked up from shaking the other suits hands.

"Daarji," Maan smiled. He stepped forward to touch the feet of voice that had just spoken.

"Na puttar, na!" Maan was stopped before he could bend over completely. Daarji held him tightly by his shoulders, before pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. Tears gathered in Maan's eyes as he held on to the man who had been his father when his own had cast him off. This man, with his teht Punjabi, rotund belly and Poirot-like mooch, had won Maan over with his first 'Sasriakaal.' Daarji pulled away first, smacking Maan playfully on the arm.

"Kya hai, Maan puttar, ek tu aur ek humari poti, jo humare aankhon mein ainvay aansoo laate hai," said Daarji as he wiped the corners of his eyes.

"Kya kahun Daarji, humara toh kamaal kuch aisa hi hai," teased Maan, rolling his shoulders back while adjusting his collar. He cocked his head and gave Daarji a lopsided smirk.

"Oye, zyada udd mat," Daarji pulled Maan's ear. "Main abhi tera Daarji hoon. Jitne bhi senior partner-shartner ban gaye ho, samjhe?"

"Daarji, please! Mera image mat kharab karo!" pleaded Maan.

"Haan, haan, tu apna image dhyan se rakh. Aur ab teri boss bhi aaeygi na, toh usse impress karni padegi, hai na?" said Daarji as he released Maan's ear.

"Daarji aap bhi na," muttered Maan as he quickly readjusted his suit and tie. "Aisi koi baat nahi hai, main bas achcha sa impression jamana chahta hoon. Senior partner jo hoon, na? I don't want her to regret her decision."

"Kyun, pet main voh, kya kehte hai? Voh joh-haan, titliyan hai?" Daarji whispered in Maan's ear, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Daar-"

"Arre aap dono kya kusur-pusur kar rahe ho?" boomed Arjun's voice from across the room. Maan shot Daarji a black look before meeting Arjun's eye. "Aaiye, tashreef rakhiye, humari malakain abhi aati hogi."

"Of course, of course," Maan grinned as he stepped forward and pulled out a chair for Daarji.

"Daarji, pehle aap,"

"Jinda raho, puttar," smiled Daarji as he sat down.

The room settled as Maan glanced around, realization washing over him. The glass boardroom table gleamed, reflecting the faces leaning back in sleek steel grey chairs seated about it. He smiled as his glance caught sight of his own reflection. He was sitting with the board of directors, the executives, Handa Industries' major shareholders and hot shots, movers and shakers. But this time, he was one of them.

Smiling to himself, he unbuttoned his suit jacket and lowered himself into his seat. He sat with his back to the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the busy Delhi morning. To his right sat Daarji, who sat winking across the table at Arjun Sir. Reclining in his seat just left of the head of the table, Arjun returned Daarji's wink and turned his attention to Maan.

"Ahem, ahem. Aur bataao Maan, kaisa lag raha hai, senior partner banke? Koi second thoughts? Koi nervousness, ke boss aayegi aur tumhe pehle din pe bahar phenk degi?" Arjun called, bringing Maan out of his reverie.

"Nahi, Arjun Sir. Aisi koi baat nahi hai, main toh bas-"

"Arre toh itne khamoosh kyun ho? Lagta hai nervous zurur ho." smiled Arjun. "Waise bhi, nervous hone main koi baat hai, humari malkain madam, aisi hi hai. Jinta khatarnak log kehte hai, usse kahin zyada khatarnak hai. She runs a tight ship, Maan. Tez hai, bijli ki tarah. Bach ke rehna. Kahin tumhe nahi lage," Arjun half muttered the last part. "Kyun logon," he continued with gusto, "Main sach bol raha hoon, hai na?"

A chorus of "Haan, haan!" and "Bilkul sach kaha tumne, Arjun" filled the room.

"Oh, ho, tum logon bhi na, humari poti ko kisi drame ki vamp bana rahe ho. Kaise log hai aap?" chimed in Daarji in a show of mock disappointment.

"Hum apni poti ke baray mein aisi baatein nahi sunni!"

"Nahi Daarji, humein ghalat mat samajhna. Hum aapki poti ki bohot izzat karte hai, uske bina hum aur yeh saari Handa Industries aaj yahan nahi hote. Main toh bas yeh keh raha tha, ke Maan needs to mind his p's and q's, he's not the top dog anymore, he has to answer straight to the CEO of Handa Industries herself. Humari boss koi aisi-vaisi ladki nahi hai. Ek dum aag hai, aag!"

Maan sat watching the scene before him, his intrigue only growing. From his first day of work, he had heard nothing but the demanding, almost demonic, nature of Handa Industries' boss. She was an enigma. Never seen, yet omnipresent. She demanded nothing short of perfection from her employees. Everyone from the doorman to the senior partners were held to the same standard. She was feared, but not as much as she was loved. Although few had the privilege of making her acquaintance, all Handa Industries employees blessed the name of the unseen 'Madam' who paid for their children's schooling and parent's hospital bills.

Kaisi ladki hai yeh, yaar?

Some argued she was an invalid, living as recluse in the Swiss Alps and it was Arjun Sir who was the real brains behind Handa Industries miraculous comeback. She had an illicit relationship with Prince Harry and was banished to Kashmir to live her days in shame. She spent her days sipping margaritas in a villa overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. Others doubted her existence. She isn't a she. No female could possibly accomplish what she had. If she was real, why does she not make public appearances? She's obviously an elaborate ruse designed by the Board of Directors as a publicity stunt. I mean, have you ever heard of a twenty-something heiress actually taking interest in her father's business let alone single handedly pulling her father's crumbling empire from the verge of bankruptcy? She cannot be real. No scandalous tabloid pictures, no drunken college indiscretions, no rowdy appearances at parties for the socially elite.

All the theories Maan had been told ran through his head.

"Well, aaj toh pata chalega, meri boss ki asliyat," Maan muttered to himself as he shifted in his seat. "Vaise, suna hai ke time ke bohot pakki hai, aur yeh dekho, sab log yahan hai aur hamari boss madam ki koi pata nai. Humpf."

He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a silver pocket watch. He ran his fingers over the ornate carvings on the side, thinking of this morning when his Dadimaa had placed it in his hands. She had put down the aarti thaal and reached for his hands, filling them with the pocket watch and chain.

"Yeh humare khandan mein barson se chale aaya hai. Aap ke pehle, aapke Papa ke paas tha, aur usse pehle aap ke Daarji ke paas. Shagun maan kar, le lo, aapki promotion ki khushi mein," she said, her eyes glistening with tears.

"Hum jaante hai, aapko apne beeti hui kal ke saari naathay thod chuke ho, magar, humari khaatir, pehen lo beta. Pleas-"

"Nai Dadimaa, aisa mat kahiye. Main aapki khushi ke liye kuch bhi kar sakta hoon," Maan said as he held his grandmother's frail hands in his own.

Maan watched the seconds hand, slowly coming back to the present. As the hour hand moved to the nine, the conference room door opened. A silence fell over the room. Arjun straightened his tie, Daarji sat up in his chair, a smile playing on his lips, and the remaining board members squared their shoulders. Maan's eyes were drawn to the door. Who was this Handa girl who elicited such a reaction from men more than twice her age?

As the figure appeared, much to Maan's confusion, Arjun Sir's words rang in his ears. _Aag hai, aag_.


	3. Chapter III

_Five Years Prior_

"Babaji, ab mera koi nahi, sivai tera. Tum hi mere aakhri sahare ho. Ab tum hi batao, main kya karun?"

He raised his eyes to the cloudless sky, the collar of his white shirt drenched in the ceaseless downpour of tears that stained his face.

He closed his eyes. Suddenly his father appeared before him, his face red with anger, his voice full of disgust.

" _Tumne hum sab ko beizzat karaya. Humara sar ko jhuka diya. Izzat ko mitti mein mila diya!" his father roared._

 __" _Nahi, Bauji, nahi! Iss mein mera koi kusoor nahi hai, Bauji please! Mera baat suniye, please Bauji!" he heard his own voice plea._

" _Hattho! Main tumhari shakal bhi nahi dekhna chahta hoon," Bauji hissed. "Ab tumhare iss ghar mein koi jagah nahi hai."_

 __" _Nahi Bauji, nahi! Mere saath aisa mat kijiye!"_

He forced his eyes open. He was doubled over on all fours, gasping for air desperately trying to pry away the frigid fingers of hopelessness that clawed at his heart. Had he not tread on the path of sacchai? Had he not given up his everything to do what was right?

"Babaji, kyun? Mere saath aisa kyun kua? Maine kaunsi ghalti ki joh aap mujhe iss tarah ki saza de rahe ho?" he pleaded, his head cradled in his hands, his shoulders wracked with his deep sobs.

"Aisa nahi kehte hai puttar. Joh bhi Babaji karte hai, humari bhalaiye ke liye karte hai,"

That was when he saw two kohlapuri clad feet just to his right. As he raised his head, his eyes met with a rotund belly before meeting a pair of twinkling grey eyes framed by bushy brows. He noticed kindness in those wrinkle framed eyes as they came to his level.

"Dekho puttar," the gruff voice said. "Woh jo uupar wala hai na, ussne humko banaya. Aur joh bhi woh humko deta hai, dukh, sukh, sab kuch, woh humein iss liye deta hai ke hum uss sab se seekhe. Aur achche khaase hate kate bane. Dil aur dimaagh se, jaan se. Hm?"

He stared in awe at his heaven sent advisor. A generous mooch bristled over crisp lips from which a balm issued forth. This pagdi-ed companion gave him the comfort he craved, his simple words had provided him the solace his aching heart sought. In Delhi's bustling crowds, this man had heard his cries, stopped, and offered him a new outlook as though he were a son..

"Kyun poochne ka koi faida nahi hai. Bas joh kuch bhi Babaji ne likha hai, usse apnao aur jeeo, himmat se jeeo," he placed a meaty hand on Maan's back. "Vaise hum toh har baat ki 'kyun?' pooch sakte hai, magar 'kyun?' poochne se hamari masle ke hal toh nahi milenge na? Agar hum sach ke saath dete hai, toh phir raah mein zuroor kaante milenge, par un kaanto pe chalne se agar manzil mil jaaye, toh woh dard kuch bhi nahi."

He gave his wizened companion a weak smile and received a firm pat on the back, causing him to grimace in pain.  
"Himmat mat har," his companion urged as he hoisted himself to his feet. "Chal, ab tu ghar ja, aur himmat se kaam le. Sasriakaal ji, jinda raho," and with a final smile he turned to leave.

He looked at his hands he had raised in a final sasriakaal to the elderly man who had given him a little reason to hope. His eyes rested on the signet ring that glimmered on the little finger of his right hand.

"Ghar hota toh main zuroor jaata tha," he said to himself. He raised his eyes to the green canopied ceiling of the dargah in which he sat. He focused on the waves of green that danced above his head. The fluttering of the criss crossed green chaadars was the last thing he saw as a jolt of pain seared along his back, leaving him unconscious and unaware of the warm blood that seeped through his sweat soaked shirt.

"Daarji aap kahan ho?" Geet struggled to keep the fear from sounding in her voice.

"Kya? Hospital mein? Kyun? Kaunsi hospital? Kya hua? Main abhi aati-" Geet was cut off by her Daarji's firm voice calling her name.

"Kya, ek ladka? Par aap kyun-"

"Achcha phir. Teekh hai Daarji. Bas aap jaldi se vaapas aaye. Mujhe bilkul bhi achcha nahi lagta jab aap raat mein baahar jaate, woh bhi akele."

Geet hung up the phone after ensuring her grandfather's speedy return. As she turned away, she frowned, her lower lip caught in the clutches of her teeth. An uneasiness settled in her stomach. Daarji had left over six hours ago saying he would just run over to Nizamuddin to get her some halwa and pray for her journey. She stopped wringing her hands to check the time on her wristwatch. Her flight was in four hours.

Geet sighed as she sat on the edge of her bed.

Four hours.

 _Four hours._

Another four hours in her homeland. The last four hours before she left and didn't come back for Babaji knows how long. Four hours and she would be estranged from all she held dear. Four hours until she became parayi.


	4. Chapter IV

Geet inhaled the familiar scent of her office: paper, leather and that ever present whisper of jasmine. She sat in her oversized leather chair at her mahogany desk, running her fingers over the deep carvings along the edge. Sighing, she swiveled her chair to face the floor to ceiling windows that made up the walls of her corner office. Staring out onto the Delhi traffic, she allowed a smile to creep to her lips.

"Dekha Papa ji? Dekho main kahan se kahan aa gayi. Aap khush toh hai na Papa ji? I've made you proud na Papa ji? Bas mujhe aapka aashirwaad aur khushi chhahiye, aur kuch nahi."

A gentle knock on the glass door to her office broke her reverie. The head of her barbie-esque secretary bobbed in the doorway.

"Ma'am, sab log conference room main aap ke liye tayyaar hai. Hum meeting ke liye chalein?"

Geet turned, the traces of a sad smile still lingering on her lips.

"Thank you, Pari," Geet stood and walked out of her office, Pari at her heels.

It was Pari's second week working for Geet Ma'am and she had yet to understand how Geet Ma'am walked so fast in her four inch Louboutins and high-waisted pencil skirts that reached just below her knees. Pari chose flats with gel insoles and pant suits after her first day as secretary for Handa Industries' CEO. Demanding and aggressive as Geet Ma'am was, Pari admired her boss in everything from her quick mind to her sense of style. The cool confidence that emitted from her every movement made Pari think that Geet Ma'am didn't even sneeze without deciding it would be advantageous and agreeing to the relief a sneeze would provide her nose. No wonder this woman was an enigma, she pondered and calculated, she organized and deliberated, she inspired awe and exacted perfection.

Everything from the delicate wing of her eyeliner and the seamless coat of black nail polish she wore to the color coded files that filled cabinets in every office of the building and the scented paper on which she wrote every personal letter to her staff, breathed to witness the glory that was Geet Handa. Pari had already began imitating Geet Ma'am's firm handshake and unwavering eyes in the mirror at home, such was the jaadoo of Geet Handa.

As Pari quickened her pace to keep up with her boss, she noted today's outfit. Standard issue Geet Ma'am high-waisted skirt, variation: gray. Fitted white button-down blouse. Nude Louboutin pumps. Diamond stud earrings in both first and second piercings, larger in the bottom piercing, smaller on top. White and gold leather watch. One thin gold band on pinky finger of watch hand. Hair tied low in a tight bun, the usual rebellious curls falling out.

"Kya baat hai yaar, Geet Ma'am kisi ko bhi paa sakti. Bhagwaan jaane kyun akeli rehne pe tuli hui hai," Pari wondered as she completed her mental catalogue of her boss's wardrobe.

"Pari, tum ne kuch kaha?"

"Ji?" Pari's now golf ball-sized eyes snapped to her boss. "Ji-nahi woh main-bas uh-kuch bhi toh nahi Ma'am, maine toh kuch bhi nahi kaha."

"Hm,"

The two stopped outside the conference room doors. Pari stood just behind Geet, mentally double checking the list of files she had to bring. Geet Ma'am wrapped her fingers around the door handle before her.

"Aur Pari?"

"Ji Ma'am?"

"Aaj tumhari probation khatam."

Pari watched as her boss opened the frosted glass door and walked in before stopping to see the smile that had spread across Pari's face. The usually overwhelming silence that met her within the conference room could not make her smile falter. In fact, today she reveled in the feeling that accompanied trailing the powerful shadow of her boss.

"Gentlemen, good morning. As you all are aware, we have a newcomer in our midst," Geet's voice cut crisp and clear through the still conference room air.

"Mr. Khurana has shown skill and a refreshing passion in the four years he has been with us. His hard work, depicted in late nights at the office and the resulting near flawless product, as well as his astonishing amount of loyalty, has earned him a position among you at such a young age-"

"Haan, haan, aakhir employee kiss ka hai?" called out Arjun Sir. He winked, shooting Maan a knowing look from across the table.

A tremor of chuckles travelled along the table. Geet raised an eyebrow, sending Arjun Sir a pointed look, and continued, "We congratulate Mr. Khurana and welcome him to the Board."

A light smattering of applause, prompted by Arjun Sir, filled the room forcing Maan to tear his eyes from the figure at the head of the table that had him practically gaping. Sitting up in his chair he straightened his tie and smiled politely at the applause. Finding his voice, he managed to croak out a "Thank you, Ma'am," before Arjun Sir nearly jumped out of his chair and demanded a speech.

Maan didn't miss the mischievous glint in Arjun Sir's eye as he looked at Maan, nor did he miss the icy glare Geet Ma'am sent Arjun Sir when he gave her a pleading look. Geet Ma'am relented nonetheless, she sat in her chair, leaning back so as to say, "Well, little Khurana, speak if you must."

Maan stood, invoking Babaji's madat under his breath. "Yeh Arjun Sir bhi na, jaane kahan kahan pe mujhe phassa dete hai, " he mumbled, his fingers somehow forgetting how to swiftly button his suit jacket.

"Mr. Khurana aap zara zor se bolenge, humein sunai nahi de raha hai," Geet's voice snapped Maan back to the task at hand.

"Hayye Babaji, madat karna!" Maan thought to himself, his eyebrows furrowing in worry as he gulped down his fears. The moment Geet Ma'am had walked in, he found himself unable to focus on anything else. Her presence demanded attention, her squared shoulders and tall figure coupled with the haughty air that surrounded her every movement and her piercing molten brown eyes, _hayye o rabba uski aankhein_ , commanded others around her to sit up and pay attention. Maan could hardly keep his countenance. He was drawn to the resolve that framed her set jaw, the hauteur that surrounded the tilt of her head, and the _knowing_ that pierced from beneath her long, downy lashes.

Iss sab ko dekh ke hum jaante hai ke Maan ko Babaji ke madat ki kitni zaroori tha.

"Ahem, uh, woh main…" Maan coughed out, his collar suddenly too tight for comfort. "Haan, woh main sabse pehle apne Babaji ko thanks kehna chahta hoon. Thanks Babaji," Maan looked to the sky where his Babaji sat. He looked down, clearing his throat and throwing a furtive glance to his Geet Ma'am. "Hem, uh woh Babaji ko thanks uh aur.." Maan scanned the room before him, had it really been so full before? His eyes finally rested on Daarji's beaming face.

"Oh haan, Daarji! Haan main Daarji ko thanks bolna chahta hoon, kyun ke... khair iss kyun ka matlab aap sab log jaante hai," Maan paused. "Daarji na hote to main shayad aaj zinda bhi nahi hota. Iss liye, Daarji, yeh position, yeh shakhs jo aapke saamne khada hai, yeh sab, aapki amaanat hai," Maan continued as tears began to glisten in his eyes. Daarji was already bawling into his romaal.

"Kya Daarji? Yeh toh khushi ka mauka hai, aur ek aap hai joh ro rahe ho," Maan grinned. "Dekho Daarji, yeh mera special din hai, aur aap abhi bhi spotlight cheen ne pe tule ho. Bas, bohot ho gaya rona dhona!"

Daarji chuckled as he dabbed the tears from his bristly mooch. "Kya karen, puttar? Humara kamaal kuch aisa hi hai, spotlight hum nahi cheente hai, spotlight humein khud dhoondti hai."

The entire table broke into laughter, the scene before them had them almost weeping along with Daarji. Here was Maan, the boy they all knew and considered their own son even before he was promoted to sit with them at the Board of Directors table. But now he sat amongst them, a confident young man, hardworking, loveable and person who laid claim to the other half of Daarji's heart. He had won them all over with his easy ways, his infectious smile, and his selfless character. Now Maan had won the recognition, if not the admiration, of their beloved Geet Ma'am too. And although a smile never broke from her lips, even Geet Ma'am had a certain softness in her eyes when her Daarji showed such partiality to the young man across the table. Maan ke Babaji toh kamaal ke hai.

"Oye mera bhi thanks aayega, ke nahi?" Arjun sir called out from the head of the table, his lips pursed in mock anger.

"Arre Arjun sir, aapka kya thanks? Aap nahi hote to main achcha khaasa apne cubicle mein baithta, na ki suit pehen kar aise speeches banata," Maan winked.

"Oh ho, itni nashukri? Humpf," Arjun Sir turned to Geet. "Ma'am mujhe lagta hai ke abhi bhi waqt hai faisla badalne ke liye..." he trailed off catching Geet's unamused look. "Ah, right Ma'am, aap bilkul sahi hai. Main bhi yeh soch raha tha. Ahem, chalo. Continue Maan," Arjun Sir shifted in his seat.

"Nahi, sach mein Arjun Sir, ek aap hai aur ek meri dadimaa jo mujh par bharosa rakha jab mujhe khud apne aap par vishwaas nahi tha. Aur aap ka yeh bharosa aur pyaar ka qeemat main bata nahi sakta, unmol hai," Maan pacified Arjun Sir who beamed. Maan turned to the remaining board members around him. "Aur ek aakhri shukriya, aap sab ke liye, jo mujhe iss maqaam par pohonchne ka mauka diya. Dil se, shukriya."

Maan flashed a nervous but grateful at his new colleagues, before relieving his shaking knees and lowering himself into his chair. He couldn't shake this feeling of nervousness that had overtaken him so suddenly. He wasn't normally so jittery, but as soon as the conference room door had opened and in walked his boss, it seemed as though time had warped and he was powerless to even function correctly.

He now ventured a look at his boss. Throughout his speech Geet Ma'am sat at the head of the table, elbows resting on the arms of her chair, her fingers tented before her. She hadn't laughed at his stumbling or even smiled at his sincerity. She simply sat unmoving, her gaze steadfast and piercing. Maan had made it a point not to look directly at her. She was like the sun, he could only handle small doses of her brilliance.

"Thank you Mr. Khurana, and again, congratulations," Geet Ma'am's voice hardly helped his already sensitive nerves. She sat forward in her chair and motioned to Pari to hand her the files. "Gentlemen, shall we proceed with what's next on the schedule?" Everyone moved to open the files before them. Above the shuffling of papers and general commotion, Maan heard Geet before he saw her looking at him. "Oh, aur Mr. Khurana, meeting ke baad aap mere office ko aaiyega. Kuch formalities hai joh humein dekhna chahiye."

Maan's brain whizzed with panic, kya? Meeting ke baad? Geet Ma'am ke office mein? Geet Ma'am ke saath? Before he knew it, Maan heard his voice, laced with fear, blurt out " _Akele?_ "

All heads turned Maan's way and Maan felt the blood rush to his face.

Daarji giggled. Ji haan, the rotund, mustached, and pagdi-ed man sitting next to Maan giggled. "Kyun puttar, tumhe dar hai ke Geet tujhe kha jaayegi kya?" he asked, his eyes revealing his barely suppressed mirth. Geet ignored Daarji's comment, but not without sending him an exasperated glance.

"Nahi woh-I mean-woh woh mera matlab nahi-"

Holding up her hand, Geet motioned for Maan to hold his tongue. "Ji nahi Mr. Khurana, akele mein nahi, humara wakeel bhi wahan pe aayenge. Shayad aap ne teekh se sunna nahi, hum kuch _formalities_ complete karne ke liye milenge." Geet paused before continuing, "Waise bhi mujhe aap ko khaane mein naa koi dilchaspi hai," she looked Maan up and down, "naahi koi faida."

Maan remembered little of the rest of the meeting following Geet Ma'am's speech and Arjun Sir's subsequent snort turned cough.


	5. Chapter V

Maan gulped. The collar of his shirt chafed his skin. _Geet Ma'am ko kya sauna mein kaam karna pasand hai?_ He stood before his boss, fidgeting with his tie as his eyes flickered nervously between her and the papers on her desk. The few minutes he stood there stretched for an eternity, hardly helping his nerves. When the board meeting was over, he quickly stood up to follow Geet Ma'am out of the room, fearful that he might aggravate her again if he kept her waiting in any way.

"Kya Maan yaar? Apne aap ko sambhalo. Ma'am ne kaha na keh woh tujhe kha thodi jaaeygi. Bas thandi saans le aur focus kar," Maan coaxed himself out of his anxiety by observing the room around him.

Geet Ma'am's office was...white. White walls, white sofas, white pillows, white accent rug, white lamp, yahan tak ke files jo bookshelf pe the, woh bhi safed the. Kaale labels par safed ink mein likha hua file ka naam. MIndblowing. The only color in the room was the mahogany desk at which Geet Ma'am sat.

"Toh Mr. Maan Khurana, yeh rahi aapki contract. Humein umeed hai keh sab kuch Handa Industries ke taraf se aapko achcha lage. Yeh dekhiye, app pardh sakte jab tak Mr. Singhania should be here," Geet said straightening the papers with a final tap on the desk before handing them to Maan.

"Ji zuroor Ma'am, aap kehte hai toh main pardh leta hoon, magar jab aap ne pardha toh mere pardhne mein kya faida?" Maan gave Geet a nervous smile.

A pair of daggers met Maan's eyes before Geet answered, "Agar faida hai toh sirf aap ke liye, Mr. Khurana."

"Ji bilkul, aap bilkul sahi hai Ma'am," Maan shifted in his chair before dropping his eyes to the contract he held.

Silence encompassed the room as Maan willed his eyes to focus on the words before him. The task was easier in theory than in practice. Maan couldn't explain the myriad of emotions he felt being in the same room as Geet Ma'am _alone_. Attraction? Was he attracted to her? Of course she was beautiful, every man in the building could tell you that, you'd have to be blind not to be attracted to her. Fear? Did he fear her? Of course he feared her, the flicker in her eye was enough to turn stone into dust. And yet. And yet Maan couldn't help feel inextricably drawn to that flame.

"Abhe Maan, nayi naukri ke saath saath nayi shokh bhi mili. Masochistic shokh," Man thought to himself. "Koi din yeh shokh tumhe marvaega."

Maan gripped the papers in his hand until they warped with the sweat from his palms. The sound of Farouqi Sir's curt footfall before sweeping the glass door to Geet ma'am's office could not have been sweeter. Maan knew Farouqi Sir from his days of climbing the corporate ladder. Farouqi Sir had sharp features and gray hair, carefully slicked back with Brylcreem. He was not a tall man, but the look in his eye could make anyone forget their social security number and wonder if that red light they ran this morning was caught on tape. But Farouqi Sir was not naturally austere, his face was often adorned with a smile and a twinkle in his eye, both seemed to say, "I know more than you do" more often than not. He walked in, suited and booted, Pari in tow.

"Adaab ma'am. Khairiat hai?" said Mr. Farouqi, hi head bent in a salute.

"Haan, adaab Farouqi. Teek hoon, bas aap ka intezaar tha. Mr. Khurana ki kuch formalities karni thi. Phir hum Gurgaon wala file mein kuch review baaki hai. Aaiye, shuru karein?" Geet gestured toward the empty seat next to Maan. Pari placed a steaming cup of black coffee on Geet's desk before sitting on the sofa, neatly crossing her ankles, complete with notebook and pen at the ready.

"Aur haan, aap ki beti aur naya nawasa kaise hai?" Geet asked, her eyes glancing up at Mr. Farouqi, before settling once again on the papers before her.

Farouqi Sir leaned forward before answering, "Ji dono teek hai, bas aap ki dua hai."

"Achcha. Maine ek package bheji uss ke liye, woh mili thi?"

"Ji Ma'am mili, Samra ke ghar aane ke baad woh aap ko zuroor shukriya karne ke liye phone karegi,"

"Tsk. Koi zuroorat nahi. Bas usse woh package mili toh sahi hai. Uss mein kuch cheezein hai joh shayad uss ko kaam aaye."

Maan stared wide eyed at the exchange before him. Pehli ajeeb baat hai ke Farouqi Sir Geet Ma'am se itne bade hokar bhi Geet Ma'am ko 'Ma'am' keh rahe hai. Upar se yeh caring wali Geet Ma'am kahan se aayi? Jo unki subordinates ki itni parwah karti hai? Before Maan could work out his Geet Ma'am's puzzling character, he was called back to the present.

"Ji, Ma'am."

"Haan toh Farouqi, aap bas ek baar phir Mr. Khurana ke contract dekh sakte hai, toh phir hum iss kaam khatam karte hai. Mr. Khurana aap ko koi cheez add ya discuss karni thi?" Geet turned to Maan.

"Ji? Ji nahi, meri taraf se sab kuch sahi hai," Maan replied.

"Farouqi?"

"Ji Ma'am, sab kuch sahi hai. Bas aapki aur Mr. Khurana ki signature chahiye," Farouqi handed the file back to Geet.

After signing his contract, finalizing his position on the board of directors of Handa Industries, Maan felt the apprehension sweep from his body. It was done. It was official.

"Once again, congratulations Mr. Khurana," Geet stood, offering Maan her hand in a more personal congratulation. Maan stood on shaking legs, gulping down his fear and praying to his Babaji before forwarding his own hand to meet hers. Magar Maan ke Babaji ne kuch aur hi soncha. In an effort to overcome the weakness he felt in his knees, Maan propelled himself with more force than necessary, causing him to tumble, almost double over Geet's desk. As he struggled with his newfound aerodynamics, he took Geet's cup of coffee down with him. The cup whirled off the desk, its contents splaying in a magnificent fountain before disbursing on Geet Ma'am's white carpet. Maan looked on in horror as the scene played out in slow motion before his eyes. Before he knew it he was stuttering incoherently between feeble attempts to rectify the situation.

"Heyy Babaji, yeh maine kya kar diya? So-sorry Ma'am. Main abhi saaf karta hoon-abhi, abhi karta hoon."

His tirade of apologies lead him to futily dab at the blotchy carpet with his tie.

"Mr. Khurana-"

"Ji sorry Ma'am, main abhi-yeh mera matlab, sorry. Mujhe jaane kya-"

"Mr. Khurana," Geet Ma'am's voice was deathly low.

"Sorry Ma'am. I'm so sorry. Woh aapko handshake karne jaa raha tha aur phir yeh cup, yeh cup jaane kahan se aaya-"

"Mr. Khurana!" Geet raised her voice in exasperation. Until now Pari and Farouqi Sir had jumped to their feet and watched in apall and mild amusement respectively. Their attention had been fully captured by the man on his knees dabbing furiously at the carpet, until Geet raised her voice. All attention was now on Geet.

Maan looked meekly from below the corner of Geet's desk to meet his boss's eyes.

"Mr. Khurana, please. Koi zuroorat nahi hai, ab aapka kaam khatam ho gaya hai, tum jaa sakte ho," Geet's voice had turned to ice.

Realizing the ludicrous position he now stood, no, kneeled in, Maan slowly straightened his tie before standing up. "Woh main, actually Ma'am-"

Geet raised a hand to silence him, barely concealing the roll of her eyes. "Mr. Khurana, jaise maine kaha, tumhara kaam ab khatam hai, tum jaa sakte ho."

"Ji magar Ma'am, yeh stain-"

"Tum uski fikr mat karo, hum sambhalenge."

"Ji Ma'am," Maan gathered his wits before retreating to the door. As he opened the door he stopped, turned, and said, "Sorry Ma'am." He would have waited a moment longer to throw in a sorry face to match had Geet not taken a menacing step toward him causing him to scuttle out of the office fearing the fire in her eyes.

"Babaji aap mere saath aisa kyun karte ho?" Maan said forlornly as he stirred his tea.

"Arre yaar, joh hogaya so hogaya. Bhool jaao usse, waise kaunsi naukri gayi tumhari joh tum aise pareshaan ho?" Adi handed Maan a donut. The two sat at a table in the canteen having an early lunch.

"Kya bataun yaar, main jab bhi Geet Ma'am ke paas hoon toh main zuroor koi na koi gadbad karta hoon. Babaji jaane mere dimagh ko kya hota hai jab woh mere saamne hoti hai."

"Maan, relax yaar. Hum sab Geet Ma'am se darte hai, aur aise ulte seedhe kaam toh karte rehte hai," Adi took a bite of his donut before adding, "Tum toh bas thoda zyada utla seedha kaam karne lagte ho."

This elicited a groan and a whiny 'I know' from Maan as he dropped his head into his hands.

"Chalo yeh sab chod yaar, batao tumhara naya office kaisa raha?"

"Pata nahi yaar," came the muffled reply.

"Kya? Pata nahi matlab kya? Tum board of directors pe baite hue ho aur tumne apna naya office nahi dekhi?" Adi sounded personally affronted that Maan had shown such disinterest in his new vocational digs.

"Pata nahi matlab pata nahi. Bas itni gadbad karne ke baad mujhe kuch samajh mein nahi aaya. Main coffee gira kar hi to aa raha tha jab tum mile. Office ka khayal toh door ki baat, maine Dadima ko bhi phone nahi kiya."

"Uff Maan, chal, utt. Office jaake wahin se Dadimaa ko phone karte. Chal yaar!" Adi was on his feet, snapping his fingers in Maan's ear. "Chaloo!"

Maan slumped in his high back swiveling leather chair. Sitting in his new office, he tried wrapping his head around the events of this morning. So far he suffered a bout of verbal diarrhea and embarrassed himself in front of the entire board of directors plus Daarji and his boss, then his antics in his boss's office lead him to ruin her personal effects in the presence of her, her lawyer, and her secretary. A deep groan erupted from his chest.

"Kyun Babaji, kyun?" Maan whined to himself. "Ugh. Ab mujhe jaane kya kya karna padega Ma'am ko yeh ehsaas dilane ke liye ke main bilkul bekaar ka aadmi nahi hoon?"

Neither Adi roaming about his new spacious office with its city view and stylish furniture nor Daadima's raptures and aashirvaad telephonically delivered worked to help Maan forget the gaffes of the day. Alas, Maan wasn't even given the opportunity to properly wallow over his stupidity as he received a call from Pari stating he was required in Geet Ma'am's office in twenty minutes.

"Lagta hai Ma'am ko bhi pata chal gaya ke mera bewaqoofi ki quota aaj ke liye nahi bhara," Maan sighed. Before he could enter another rant with his Babaji, Maan's phone rang again.

"Haan Pari, bolo."

"Maan?"

Maan felt his heart skip a beat. He hadn't heard that voice in over five years. Surely he was imagining it.

"Ji, sorry, main aapko nahi pehchana. Aap ki taarif?"

"Maan, main Naintara bol rahi hoon. Maan, please, phone mat katiye. Mujhe tumse ek baat kehni thi, ek chheh saal purani baat. Maan tum sun rahe ho na?"

Any words that Maan had rehearsed to say in this situation fell dry in his throat. He managed to grunt out a feeble 'hm,' allowing the woman on the phone to continue.

"Maan, chheh saal pehle, tumse milne ke baad, main ma bani-tumhare bachche ki ma."


End file.
